


of note

by fyborg23



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, inappropriate t-shirts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:53:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyborg23/pseuds/fyborg23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These may not be precise reasons but Oshie’s not a precise dude off the ice. David narrows his eyes above his morning coffee as Oshie swans around with that t-shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of note

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayal/gifts).



> A Hanukkah gift for ayal!

Oshie has bad taste in clothes. Left to his own devices Oshie will wear nothing but tank tops and snapbacks. Whenever he has to wear a suit for team reasons, he always,  _always_  goes straight for the plaid and too-small hates.

Fortunately Oshie takes direction well. David would be smug about this, but Oshie backslides more than a three-wheeled sedan up a 45-degree icy slope at night.

This explains why Oshie is wearing a printed t-shirt despite David ‘losing’ them week by week to an alleged dry cleaner somewhere in Midtown. And why the Printed T-Shirt of The Day has a blaring trumpet with the words ‘THIS BOY LOVES HIS BLUES’.

These may not be precise reasons but Oshie’s not a precise dude off the ice. David narrows his eyes above his morning coffee as Oshie  _swans_  around with that t-shirt. It’s a little too big for him: loose around the collar, baggy around the chest and if David thought hard he can see the hem pool above Oshie’s hockey butt. David’s fairly sure Oshie got it in  _his_  size, even though David refuses to wear that shit on principle.

Oshie is going to drive down to practice with that shirt, take it off in front of the guys, and make eyes at Pietro.

Oshie’s a predictable shit like that.

David feels he ought to do  _something_. Like maybe yanking that shirt off and forcing him to wear something more age-appropriate. But that’d be giving into Oshie’s attention-seeking and David refuses to dance to that tune. So he doesn’t mind Oshie any more than he usually does at practice, just trying to keep Hitch’s new breakout fresh in his mind.

The team files into the room in a sweaty pile; they’re going to play the ShitHawks in a week and they’re not up to form after going up and down the Atlantic. Fucking Panthers. Oshie’s flushed red, and his hair hangs flat on his head. David flicks his eyes away. Oshie gets like that when they have sex too, and thinking about sex is really fucking unprofessional.

He’s in charge. Theoretically. Brodeur’d like everyone to sit in a circle and listen to his old man stories about winning the Cup, and Bowie has some scare stories about his time on the Flames and David has to glare at them to make them shut up. Oshie smirks at him from across the room and David forces himself not to smirk back.

Oshie’s not going to get out of whatever fix he’s in just by batting those big blue eyes. David is still figuring out how Oshie managed to get that hideous t-shirt that all but declares he’d like to get gang-banged by half of the Blues. What else could ‘THIS BOY LOVES HIS BLUES’ mean.

David likes playing on the Blues too, but he’s not sure he’d use the word  _love_. He goes on ice and plays hard because he has pride and his parents would be embarrassed if he didn’t work hard. Oshie is—

His mom called him a ‘free spirit’ with a little sniff that wasn’t  _utterly_  disapproving. David scrubs a hand through his hair and makes himself get ready to face Oshie and that shirt.

#

Oshie’s sprawling in  _his_  spot on the couch, like usual, and the t-shirt hikes up enough that David can see a glimpse of Oshie’s belly button. Oshie smirks up at him when David brings his eyes up to his face.

“Didn’t realize you like us all that much,” David opens.

Oshie scratches his abs, “I do have an A,  _Captain_ ,” and David matches Oshie’s smile with one of his own.

“Yeah, you do, doesn’t mean you have to wear  _that_  shirt.”

Those eyelashes Oshie has  _flutter_. David tries not to roll his eyes. Oshie has a few tried-and-true-and- _tired_ tactics when it comes to David. David’s not. Entirely immune. Oshie’s just so easy to read, anyone can see whatever he’s thinking just by looking at his eyes. Including the thing he and David have going on. It makes David  _itch_ everywhere.

David steps closer, the better to stroke his hand through Oshie’s hair.

“ _Love_  them, though,” he asks, pulling at Oshie’s flow a little, feeling the feathered ends slide between his fingers.

Oshie licks his lips, his tongue pink against them, “We could win it all, Davey.”

David yanks his hand quickly, and the little sharp pain makes Oshie  _laugh_. David’s not real superstitious, has no time for ‘hockey gods’ nonsense. But implying they could get the Cup is just begging for them to be lined up against the Kings.  _Again_.

“You going to make me go outside, turn three times and spit,” Oshie says. David snorts as he rubs his fingertips against Oshie’s scalp, feeling warm watching Oshie lean into his hand.

“Have a better thing in mind,” David says, blander than white bread. He slides a knee in between Oshie’s sprawled legs and looks  _meaningfully_  at Oshie’s spit-slick lips. Oshie bites his lip through a grin and the t-shirt collar gapes enough for David to have a fantastic view down Oshie’s shirt. He think he can see nipples.

Oshie reaches up to unbutton and unzip David’s jeans, almost getting the zipper stuck, but forces them down with an _ahha!_. David doesn’t have to stroke himself through his underwear. Oshie does it for him, going a little harder than David would for himself, but that’s why he lo— _likes_  Oshie. The plain cotton slides roughly against David’s dick, Oshie’s hand a warm tease through the fabric.

David skims a hand down the curve of Oshie’s neck, refuses to move anymore than that. Oshie shoots him an look, on the edge of infuriation, his eyes seeming bluer than usual.

“Gotta work for it,  _Teej_ ,” David shrugs.

Oshie’s mouth curls up in one corner, and then curls over the bulge in David’s underwear, the wet heat infuriating David back. He flicks his eyes up at David, and David has to close them. He doesn’t want to move, not before Oshie gets  _further_ , skims his hands on bare skin.

David can hear himself breathing, but on the upside, he can hear Oshie breathing harder. Oshie pushes down David’s briefs, the band catching on his dick a little, and David opens his eyes enough to see Oshie pressing his tongue against his dick. David bites the inside of his lip, presses back against Oshie’s mouth, fascinated by the slide of his dick against Oshie’s flat tongue.

Oshie presses closer, his hands curling around David’s thighs, and David wraps his hands around Oshie’s head. He thrusts in, as slowly as he can manage, and the wetness is agonizing. Oshie makes these soft  _moans_  and David’s hands curl tighter, just for a moment. Oshie curls his hands tighter around David’s thighs, and looks up at him.

_Shit_ , David only has so much self-control, and he has to  _slide_  in deeper, see the tip of his dick make Oshie’s cheek curve. He can see Oshie jerking him off, and that goes straight to his head, Oshie getting so hot over sucking him off.

Oshie sucks hard, enough to hollow his cheeks almost painfully, his tongue sliding sloppily over David’s dickhead. David mutters something under his breath, maybe  _pretty_  or  _fuck yes_ , he doesn’t know. Whatever it is, David slides in deeper, and Oshie’s throat flutters just a little too much around him. David rubs a thumb over Oshie’s redding face, gasping almost as much as Oshie is around him.

David pulls at Oshie’s hair, fucks his mouth faster, drawing out enough for Oshie to breathe uneasily around him. Oshie’s got his eyes closed, looks almost bruised, and that just makes David’s hips stutter sharply across Oshie’s tongue.

Oshie slides his hand over to stroke David off, and that’s it, David comes over Oshie’s mouth. Oshie looks up at him, his eyes focused on his, as he slowly licks most of the come off his lips. And grins, a smug radiant grin that makes David yank at Oshie’s hair and trace the arc of his throat with his hand.

“What to do with you,” David mutters.

Oshie waggles his eyebrows, “I have some ideas.”

Sure he does.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr!](http://www.hastybooks.tumblr.com)


End file.
